


Of Dreams and Reality

by RisingStar



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Charles Xavier is a Sweetheart, Erik Lehnsherr Loves Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr is a Sweetheart, F/M, Hurt Erik Lehnsherr, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisingStar/pseuds/RisingStar
Summary: A teen wakes up in a hospital, with Charles and Erik by his bedside, claiming to be his parents.Which world was the dream, which the reality?*Established Charles-Erik relationship, minimal explicit language use. TW: death, terminal illness
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr & Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Hank McCoy/Raven | Mystique
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Of Dreams and Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Dedication:
> 
> For dear Benny, whose life was cut many years too short.
> 
> He was a great fan of X-Men, for its inclusiveness and personal relevance. He was also a great fan of the Charles-Erik relationship, having enjoyed many stories from this site. In the darkest times, the movies and stories distracted him from the pain, and brought him much-needed solace. 
> 
> We always talked of writing our own story, but as all teenagers, we procrastinated.
> 
> A few weeks before he passed, Benny told me of a dream. Thus, this story was born - a warm expansion of what he had remembered.
> 
> In his last days, Benny was somnolent and confused. I hope this story was where his consciousness escaped to.
> 
> So long, Ben. I only hope you had left the pain behind, and found your own Westchester.
> 
> Till we meet again.  
> **

I was starting to come about from the sleep. I could vaguely register the sounds of whirling and beeping machines around me. It must have been a while since I was last conscious. These days, I had been sleeping for days on end. I tell ya, leukaemia sucks. Metastatic leukaemia sucks even more. And COVID? COVID is a bitch. I hadn’t contracted it, thank the heavens, or else I would have been long gone. Nevertheless, with the threat of COVID looming around and me being all immunocompromised and most importantly, dying, visitors and visiting hours had been severely restrictive. I hadn’t felt a human touch for some time now… or maybe I was just asleep.

At least I wasn’t dead, yet.

I fluttered my eyes open.

Hospitals are such weird places. It was either too bright or too dark. Never the right amount. This time, it was way too bright. Must be day time then. I could see the oxygen mask fogging up with my each breath, feel the elastic loop over my head and the plastic contour hurting my face. I pulled it off. I blinked a couple times more. Useless. I still could only see the ceiling. Too lazy and tired to be sitting up. I wondered what day it was now. I wonder how many days I had left.

My throat was so dry. I must have been breathing through my mouth. Of course, I had an NG tube in. Turning my head, I coughed. “Ugh,” that got me to curse under my breath. My throat hurt.

“Noah!” I heard someone call. “You are awake!”

You could tell by the excitement in their voice that my being awake was now a rarity, a luxury.

“Oh, my boy.” The man had come over, and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “How are you?”

“Alive,” I muttered. The man looming over my face was not my dad. But then again, I couldn’t see well without my glasses. And I couldn’t think well with all the tumour in my brain, probably.

“Let me buzz the doctor, yeah? Papa’s just getting some food for us.” The man leaned over the other way, presumably to press the call button. Distinct English accent.

“Mmm,” I let out a groan as I reached blindly for my glasses, hoping they were somewhere near. A lot of me hurt. Oh well. Cancer’s a bitch, in case you couldn’t tell.

“What do you need?” The man fumbled around with me. “Water? Glasses?”

“Glasses.” My speech sounded a bit slurred.

“Here.” He put something plastic-y in my left hand.

Did the man say “papa”? Who was papa? That was one fancy way to call dad, and I was not quite as fancy.

I put on the glasses and reached for the button to elevate the head of my bed. Brrrrrrrrrrr. I heard the electric mechanisms hum as more of the room came into my view. The air was so dry. I felt a little short of breath. How long ago did I pull off the oxygen mask? Not that long ago right?

“Oh.” I reassessed the man by my bedside with clearer vision.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Oh!” I said with as much excitement as I could muster. It was Professor X, in a wheelchair and everything. I couldn’t remember if I had Make A Wish. Perhaps my family applied for me. And real people too, not just Zoom. That was nice. No wonder my mom and dad weren’t here. Damn the COVID visiting policies.

“Hi professor,” I said, must have been with a smile, albeit a bit more breathless now. “Is it really you?” I would have liked to hug the man.

He looked confused. “Hi, my boy. Of course it’s me,” nevertheless, he greeted me. “Thank God you came around.” He held my hand and rubbed it in his, I felt distantly.

Odd. Maybe he waited a long time for me to wake up to complete this Wish.

“Did you wait a long time?” I was huffing air out now. Damn, I did deteriorate a lot.

Confused again. “Here, Noah, I think you should have this on.” He put the oxygen mask over my face again. I groaned. It hurt.

My question didn’t get answered before people interrupted us. Gown, mask, gloves, face-shield, surgical cap. I couldn’t tell who they were at all. Not that I would have remembered.

“Noah, I’m Dr. Richards, the surgeon. How are you?” The man who had just come in announced.

Richards… I couldn’t recall. Very nice voice though.

Hmm. I might have made a sound and nodded. Hopefully that was enough. I turned to keep looking at Professor X. What a dream come true. Maybe I could get him to sign something. My arms perhaps. And take it to my grave. I scoffed at my silliness.

“It’s alright, you are still waking up from the anesthetics and sedatives. We are just going to do a few tests to see how you are, ok? Your dad is right here.” Richards sounded very calming.

I nodded again, more senses coming around as I felt them exposing my chest and sticking pieces to my arms and legs. Did he say dad? I didn’t see my dad. Did he say he was a surgeon? And anesthetics and sedatives? Did I have a procedure again? I thought… I thought they were just waiting for me to die now. What was the nice word they used? Palliative. Comfort measures.

“How’s he doing, dad?” Richards spoke again.

I pulled my right hand to my head and rubbed my temples, trying to make sense of it all. Ouch. Something hurt.

“Oh, careful, Noah, here’s your IV.” A very soft voice on my right side spoke. Her eyes curved, indicating a warm smile underneath the armour.

Still, not mom. Probably my nurse then. A bunch of people did come in with Richards.

“He’s just woken up.” Professor X answered.

What? Huh? What? Why was Professor X answering? What?

Wow, I must be close to the end. I was hallucinating things. I’d like to see my family one last time though.

They kept talking. I tried to eavesdrop. I mean, technically it wasn’t eavesdropping. They were talking over me. But my head was such a mess. I needed to concentrate.

“… a bit confused? He wasn’t acting all himself.”

“That’s normal at this time, especially as the drugs wear off. I know the endotracheal tube came out this morning, he’s breathing well… We’ll monitor it… Parents know their kids, so if you say something’s off, I trust you… I don’t want you to worry yet… The scar looks good, vitals, ECG, all looked great this morning. We’ll do tests, but I’m not worried now. Again, dad, this was a big operation, it’ll take him some time to fully come to his senses.”

I followed the voice to Dr. Richards, who was clearly speaking to Professor X, while glancing at me.

“Ok. Take care.” I thought that signalled the end of conversation from the doctor.

“Thank you, doctor.” Professor X said.

Just as the people had came in, they left as a flurry. Before the doors slid closed, another man squeezed in.

Magneto.

Holy shit, dying had its benefits. I would have never gotten to see these people.

Magneto in normal clothes. I giggled. I guess it would have been too much with the ridiculous helmet and red cape. I wouldn’t have minded though. You gotta live a little once in a while.

Magneto looked concerned as he watched the sizeable medical team leave. He carried a white plastic bag and a tray of two coffees. It smelled like food.

“Hi,” I said, trying to waving my hand amidst the entangle of lines and tubes.

“Noah!” He quickly glanced at Professor X, set down the food on the tray table, and came to my bedside. “You woke up!”

Again, tangible excitement at my consciousness. That was never a good sign in my situation. I sighed with however short a breath I had.

He leaned in for a kiss on my forehead, just as Professor X had done, and cautiously, he sat down on the edge of my bed. “How are you, my precious boy?”

Through this ordeal, I was glad everyone had gendered me correctly. You see, I was born a female. I had come to terms with me being a transgender man not so long ago. My parents couldn’t accept it at first. Then, cancer came. Not wanting to make my remaining time more miserable, my family conceded. If, no, when I die, I die as a man.

“He’s just woken up. A bit confused. Doctor said it’ll take some time.” Professor X chimed in, pulling one of his hand away from mine and held Magneto’s.

I didn’t know what was going on anymore. That hand-holding was love. Even my cancer-eaten brain had processed that much. I felt a rush of happiness, and confusion. Did the Wish people manage to get the actors to play gay for me? Man, the perks of dying. I would still choose to have my life back in a heartbeat if it was possible, but to die having seen this? This was probably the best deal I was going to get.

“Do you recognize me, Noah?” Magneto looked slightly disappointed and distressed.

“Yeah.” I said. “Magneto.” I turned to the Professor, “Professor X. My heroes.” I needed to take a breath. “Please sign something before you go. But no picture, I’m ugly now.”

The two men exchanged a perplexed look.

“What do you mean, my boy?” Seemingly having weighed his words carefully, Professor X spoke.

“You are the actors. From Make A Wish, right?” Was I the one not seeing reality? “I’m dying. You were my Wish.” Why did Magneto look like he was in pain?

“You are confused, my son.” Magneto kissed my forehead again. Did Wishes usually come with such intimate gestures? “We are not actors.”

He was damn right that I was confused. They were not actors?

“Noah, you are our son.” Professor X threw in the towel on beating around the bushes. “You call Erik papa, and I’m your dad.” He looked a little defeated.

“No.” I chuckled aloud. What a blatant lie. LMFAO. Hilarious. This must have been my brother’s idea. He was a prankster.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m happy to just see you guys. No role play.” I said. My voice sounded distorted, like Darth Vader, under the oxygen mask.

They were good actors. They feigned a very good concerning look. Magneto reached for the call button. The Professor stayed his hand.

“Noah, maybe it’s the anesthetics. Rest, for now, ok?” The Professor leaned in again and squeezed my hand, his eyes full of… love?

“No, I’m not going to sleep. When do you guys have to leave? Can you sign something before you go?” I was exasperated. My head was pounding. I felt like someone was stabbing me in the eyes. I didn’t have the energy to entertain their act for much longer. I would take what I could get, now.

“We will be here when you wake up, my boy. Both of us. We promise.” Magneto looked properly heartbroken.

I didn’t trust myself to wake up again, I wanted to say.

“Sign my arms, then I’ll sleep.” I compromised. I couldn’t stay awake long even if I wanted to.

“What do you want us to sign?”

“Professor X and Magneto.” On a second thought, “And Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr.” I added, before extending both of my arms.

Reluctantly, the Professor pulled out the top drawer of the nightstand and grabbed a marker.

“Here,” He signed my left arm, and handed the pen to Magneto.

I raised my arm to examine. Amazing.

Magneto wrote gently on my skin. I fell the ink flow.

“Done, now rest, my son.” He took the initiative to make the head of my bed go down again. Brrrrrrrr. I heard the sound.

I looked around as the scenery changed ever so slightly, until I was staring at the ceiling again. I felt the cool IV fluid enter my body, and my blood tenaciously running through the vessels.

“Will I see my family again?” I asked. I didn’t know why they hadn’t come around when they had stayed here every second they got for the past however-long-I-had-been-here.

There was a brief silence before the Professor spoke.

“Of course, Noah. When you wake up.” He squeezed my shoulder.

Falling asleep was so easy, so easy that I had grown scared of falling asleep. I worried that this would be the last time I woke up. I didn’t want to go to sleep. But in spite of my reluctance, my eyelids were heavy. I closed my eyes.

In the distance, I heard the Professor and Magneto exchange a small conversation, followed by the rustling of take-out food containers. Ah, I forgot to ask for the date and time…

When I came about again, it was still light in the room. Maybe I only slept a few hours, maybe a few days. The IV was still going. I pulled off the mask again. It felt as if my skin had broken, and the plastic was grinding on my raw whatever-came-under-the-skin.

“Hi, Noah.” A voice said.

Brrrrrrrrrr. I “sat” up.

Someone had taken my glasses off again.

“Are you feeling better?” Magneto now sat my bedside, where Professor X had been.

Woah.

“You are still here.” I felt dizzy. Reality had escaped me.

“Of course. We promised.” He handed me my glasses and smiled warmly.

“Where’s —?” I didn’t know what to call the Professor anymore. So I flailed my arm around.

“He’s just taking a nap.” Magneto pointed to my far left, where the Professor lay on the lie-flat visitor’s lounge chair by the window, the sleek wheelchair parked right beside it.

“Do you want me to wake him?”

“No, no.” I raised my arms to double check. Yup, the autographs were still there. “What time is it?”

“Ummm,” Magneto raised his left wrist, where an elegant watch sat. “5.20 pm. Almost dinner time. You slept the whole afternoon.”

Oh! Only one afternoon. Not days.

“What day?”

“Wednesday.”

Hmmm. That was practically a useless piece of information. Wednesday. There were 52 Wednesdays in a year. I had come in to the hospital just before the summer holidays, I remembered. Sometime in May or June.

“July 3rd, my son.” Magneto must have detected my confusion.

A month I had been here. Give or take.

“Who are you again?” I couldn’t believe I was so naive to ask a question like this.

The sad look in his eyes were unmistakable.

“I’m your father, Noah. I’m Erik Lehnsherr. You call me papa. That’s your dad, Charles Xavier, Professor X.”

I must have gone out of my mind.

“Who am I?” I asked. Clearly my name was still Noah.

“You are our son, Noah. Noah Lehnsherr-Xavier.” His eyes glistened with hope, wishing that I would recognize some shred of fact.

To be honest, it would be really cool if all of this was real. I would have loved to be the son of Erik and Charles. But what of my real family? Where had they gone?

“What happened to me?” I continued my line of inquiry.

“Your heart failed, Noah. We rushed you here, they put you on a machine that worked as an artificial heart, and put you in a coma.” He paused, checking if things registered with me.

I looked at the Professor, and then back at Magneto. I did have a bad heart. Leukaemia just took precedence.

“Three days ago they succeeded in making a new heart for you,” He continued slowly, “so you had a 13-hour transplant surgery. You had a breathing tube until this morning. And you had just woken up today.”

I looked down at my chest. Underneath the faded-green hospital gown, I could see a pile of gauze.

“That’s your scar.” Magneto pointed as he saw me looking. “You are going to be fine, the doctors said.”

Things still didn’t make sense. Where was my real family? Where was my leukaemia?

“Can I hug you?” The breathlessness was catching on again. No matter, I had lasted much longer this time. Many more words were spoken.

“Of course.” Magneto stood up without hesitation. Leaning in, he disentangled some of the cables, and wrapped his arms around my shoulders.

It was a warm, firm hug. Very real.

So maybe this was all some kind of prank. Maybe a dream. I pondered for a second as the man who claimed to be my father hugged me close. Meh, it didn’t matter, I decided. I was a dying man. I had nothing to lose. When this was all over, I would see my real family again anyway. No rush. I was going to entertain whatever this was. Enjoy my life.

Wait a minute. I could just ask him to show me his power.

“Can you show me your power?” My voice faltered.

Magneto pulled away softly from the hug, but not before putting my oxygen mask back on, much to my dismay.

“Of course.” He seemed very happy to oblige. “Here,” he took off his necklace and floated it in the air, effortlessly. “I can make it dance for you.” He made it dance for me.

“Watch this.” He held out his hand, and pulled the Professor’s wheelchair close. “Neat, no?”

I dropped my jaw.

No fucking way. Sweet mother of Jesus. No fucking way. My head was going to explode.

“Can I see his?” I pointed to the Professor, barely containing my disbelief. I didn’t care if he was napping. If this was my Wish, an elaborate scheme by the foundation, the actors, or my brother, surely I could enjoy it to the maximum.

“Sure.” Magneto walked over to wake the Professor. “Charles,” he called as he shook him lightly.

“What’s wrong?” The Professor startled awake.

“Nothing, nothing.” Magneto answered reassuringly. “Noah wants to see your power.”

“Noah woke up?” The Professor pushed himself to sit up in the lounge chair, and looked towards me. I waved. Magneto quickly sent the wheelchair back in place, which caused the Professor to cock a brow, as if to question why it was far away in the first place.

“Oh yes, certainly.” The professor ran his hand through his mid-length hair, pulled the wheelchair close, and transferred into the chair.

_Hi, my boy._ The professor’s soft voice rang in my head. _It’s good to see you._

He wheeled right up against the hospital bed.

_Sorry I woke you up._ I thought in my head.

_It’s perfectly alright, Noah._

_Woah._ I blanked.

_Welcome back._ The professor nudged gently.

_That means I’m a mutant right? Doesn’t matter whose sperm they used._ I thought to myself, incredulous.

“Of course you are.” The Professor answered my inquiry out loud. Raising his hand, he brushed away some hair from my forehead. “Do you not remember what your power is?”

A couple feet away, Magneto looked on, now slightly amused.

“Uhhh.”

“It’s water, Noah. Feel it. Feel it in your veins, in our veins.”

I closed my eyes and thought really hard about water. I didn’t quite know how to feel anything in my veins. Except, I did.

I traced the water molecules. Through me, through the Professor, through Magneto. I felt an abundance of power behind a closed door straight in front of me. Must be the bathroom. I felt… that the Professor had a full bladder.

“You need to pee.” I blurted.

“Yes I do, my boy.” The Professor checked his watch and confirmed. He looked slightly embarrassed, but mostly happy, content that I had found my power.

“You don’t have to keep calling me the Professor,” the Professor tapped his right temple. “You can call us Charles and Erik, until you are comfortable.” He nodded to Magneto, before wheeling away towards the bathroom. I was sure they had exchanged a mental conversation. “And some privacy please, Noah.” A playful wink, before he disappeared behind the door.

Huh. I nodded once, hesitantly.

Charles, and Erik. Dad, and papa.

“He’s peeing now. Through a tube.” I commented, thoughtfully tracing the stream of liquid.

“Noah!” Magneto, um, Erik, said, half chastising. “You are not 5 years old anymore. Give him some privacy.”

_It’s quite alright. He just found his power. Plus, I pretty much planted the idea in his head._

“You need to stop listening in, honey!” Erik shouted in the direction of the bathroom, visibly relieved.

“You gave us quite the scare at lunch,” Erik walked over and again sat on the edge of my bed. “I thought we lost you.”

Yea no joke man. I was still pretty convinced this was just a cancer-induced hallucination. Though, as I decided, I would entertain this hallucination until the end.

“I’m not 100%.” I acknowledged. “I don’t remember.”

“That’s ok. We’ll help you.” He smiled, eyes somewhat sorrowful.

Knock, knock. Someone came in with a bag of yellow-brown mush. She wasn’t wearing any gown or mask this time.

“Hi Noah. You look good.” She smiled.

“You are not in a gown.” I astutely pointed it out.

“Yes! Your MRSA swab today at lunch came back clean. The antibiotics worked. No more gowns and masks from now on.” She cheerily said to Erik and I, just as Charles came out of the bathroom.

It was so odd to think that they could be my parents, and that they were here to stay with me. So odd. Would definitely take some getting used to.

“Oh that’s great news.” Charles declared. “I don’t think the masks were helping his confusion.”

“Yes dad, you are probably right.” She approached me with the yellow-brown bag of mush. I had a feeling it was going to be my dinner. Ew. “Noah, I have your feed here. I will ask the doctor when we can take the NG out, since you woke up. You can try small sips of water, juice, or jello tonight if you want, and let us know if you can tolerate it.”

Ok. That was good news. No one mentioned my leukaemia. Did I not have cancer?

“When can I go home?” Assuming we had a home.

“You’d have to ask your team, sweetheart. Usually about 7-10 days after the surgery.”

Oh! A lightbulb of happiness went off in my head. Ask your team. Not indefinitely. Not a look of pity. Ha! In this hallucination or dream or what it may be, I was not dying!

I bore down the NG feed happily. I had something to look forward to now. I was going to go home at some point.

“Erik, why don’t you go home and take a shower?” Charles gave him a meaningful look. I wagered they were having a conversation in their head again. “Bring us back some dinner.”

“He’ll be back,” Charles turned to reassure me. “He’ll be back before you sleep tonight.”

That was a lot of confidence regarding my sleeping schedule. Though, he had the right to be optimistic. I had stayed up for an hour now, and somehow, I didn’t feel like crap. Maybe not having cancer helped.

Erik frowned lightly, but conceded. “Ok.” He came over for a kiss on my forehead, and kissed his husband goodbye. “Text or call if you need anything.”

“We’ll be fine for a few hours.” Charles waved him off.

“Tell me, young man,” the Professor parked his chair near the foot of my bed. “You have an entirely different memory that’s bothering you.”

“Come in and see.” I appreciated him taking the time to acknowledge my hallucination.

The Professor put two fingers to his temple. I felt my thoughts and memories being leafed through.

Still, it was so weird to think of him as dad, and not the Professor. Especially when he used his powers.

I watched his expressions as he dug through my head. He winced as I remembered the cancer and the pain.

“That’s interesting.” He remarked after a few minutes. “I can tell you you don’t have cancer. There’s no pandemic. You’ve never had a mom or a brother, and you are…” He contemplated for a moment, “a real boy.” He vaguely gestured to my pelvic area.

I hadn’t thought about that. Now that he had brought it up, I had to look.

“Here,” He wheeled next to me. Looking away, he lifted the blanket up for me.

Still unconvinced, I pulled away the untied gown.

BEHOLD! A DICK! Attached to a catheter, but a dick alright! I reached for the water inside me, and could feel the flow. He wasn’t lying. It was the real deal.

I squealed in surprise. Whatever this may be, a hallucination or a dream, it was a nice one.

Charles smiled, so lovingly. Not only was I not dying of cancer, I possessed super powers, and was born a boy!

“I think your brain may have concocted the tangled memories in your 4 weeks of induced coma. Which, I think, Erik mentioned.”

Well that sounded like a boatload of shit. If all those memories were fake then… I really couldn’t fathom.

“Let me show you my memories of your childhood?” Charles offered. “You can see how you grew up.”

_Sure._ I shrugged.

Then, a sea of memories washed over me.

_It’s a boy! The doctor announced in the labor room to my parents. The surrogate lady looked tired. My parents screamed and jumped in happiness._

_Papa! I toddled towards Erik in a large, carpeted room, walls lined with shelves of books._

_I don’t want this! The little me cried to Charles as I threw the pudding away with my chubby fist._

_Watching in awe as aunt Raven transformed. Crying because I couldn’t tell which of the two Charles’ was my dad._

_Learning chess, but flipping the board because I lost._

_Learning to control my power as a teen, splashing water all over papa as dad laughed until he was out of breath._

_A huge Christmas tree. A menorah. Many presents under the tree, and dad and papa kiss._

_Playing hockey in school. Skating on the frozen pond on Westchester grounds._

_Fainting for the first time. The fear in my parents’ eyes. Doctor’s diagnosis. The need for an eventual transplant._

_Fainting a lot more frequently, getting schooled at home because I couldn’t go to regular school anymore._

_Then, this time, 4 weeks of dread as I lay lifeless in the Children’s Hospital._

_The 13-hour wait outside the Operating Theatre._

I withdrew from the memories. I really had grown up like this.

“Let me see if I could find and unlock your old memories, Noah.” Dad said.

He was dad now. I thought. And I saw tears well up in his eyes as I acknowledged the parental bond for the first time since I woke up.

_Dad._ I thought again.

_Hold on, my boy_.

It was hard to describe what telepathy felt like in my head. You don’t feel much of a physical presence, rather that pictures surfaced to the front of your mind. Almost like when you remembered something all of a sudden.

Yes, I remembered now.

_First day of school, a backpack full of snacks and toys. Dad was still walking then, holding my hand and telling me it was going to be ok._

_Throwing the chess pieces at papa because he wouldn’t let me win._

_Speaking German because that was the only tongue in which papa spoke to me in childhood._

_Learning violin out of interest at first, then being forced to finish the lessons._

_Dad’s accident._

_Convincing aunt Raven to be me while I snuck out past curfew for parties._

_Flying in the private jet to see grandma in Germany._

_Brooding in my room writing “deep” poetry as a teen because the boy I liked didn’t like me back._

“Dad.” I felt tears streaking down my cheeks. Dad transferred himself onto my bed, and wiped away my tears.

“It’s really you.” I opened my arms and dove into the older man’s embrace.

“It’s alright, my boy.” He stroked my hair. “I’m here.”

I held on as more memories returned. I had a good childhood. I had good parents. I didn’t have cancer. There was no COVID. I was going to recover from this surgery.

I held on for a little longer, and cried some more tears of joy.

“What of the other memories then?” I couldn’t help but ask. Was my mom, dad, and brother all imaginary? “They felt so real.”

“I don’t know, son.” Dad shook his head. “I’ve only known this version of reality, and clearly you knew this too. I don’t know if those memories you woke up with had been pure confabulation, or were from another dimension or lifetime.”

I nodded. Not much point in insisting to find out.

“When will papa come back?” It became so natural now, to call Erik papa. Why wouldn’t it? I had done so for 16, almost 17 years.

“Soon.” Dad transferred back to his chair.

“I miss him.”

“I know you do, Noah.”

“So we are really rich huh?”

Dad chuckled. I broke the cycle of rumination. The past was the past.

“Yes my boy, we are rich.” Dad wore the most serene grin.

“I figured, look at the size of this room.” I pointed to the leather couch, the sofa bed, the lounge chair, and 50-inch TV.

_Damnnnnnnn dad, I’m gonna drive that Ferrari and pick up some guys._

_All in good time, son, all in good time._ He wheeled farther and turned on the TV. There hasn’t been much livelihood in this room for a while, I ventured. It was good to have some colour and laughter.

I watched TV for a while, until I was dozing off again.

_Noah, papa’s here_. I heard dad’s voice in my head.

I opened my eyes, still half sitting in the bed. Papa had just come in the door.

“Papa,” I called out, and watched him freeze momentarily in surprise. “Ich habe dich vermisst.” In the other world, I didn’t speak a word of German. Here, German flowed out of my vocal cords, as if I had spoken it all my life.

I heard the audible gasp from papa as dad smirked on the couch.

“Your son is back.” I announced proudly, holding out my arms as he came and hugged me.

“Ich liebe dich, Noah.” Papa whispered in my ear.

“Ich auch.” I kissed his cheek.

The evening was fun. I let the nurse wash off dad's and papa's autographs on my arms. My parents recounted my childhood in more true memories and false outrageous claims, the way all parents did to embarrass their kids. I watched as they embraced each other and kissed passionately. Papa fed me some lime jello which I promptly choked on, getting him scolded by dad ferociously. I drank some juice in the end, and managed to keep everything down. Both of them stayed with me that night. Apparently, they had been alternating each night, keeping me company.

I lay awake for a while after they had gone to sleep. I thought about the other reality, my mom, dad, and brother. Thought of their smiles, hugs, and warmth. I had memories of growing up in that family as well, less well off, but equally loved and cherished. I wondered, if that world did exist, what was happening to me there. Had I died? Was I in a coma? I closed my eyes and prayed that my parents and brother in the other world only lived with joy and happiness.

I recovered gradually over the next couple of days, like the doctor promised. No hint of cancer. Absolutely not dying.

I told dad and papa my memories of X-men from the other world. They confirmed some, denied most. Where I was now, mutants were accepted and integrated into society. Though, papa was quick to add, mutants still endured some degree of discrimination in some places, overt or covert. Westchester was never turned into a school, as there was never the need.

“I could not see how turning Westchester into mutant-only school was a good idea,” Dad had pondered. “Segregation breeds segregation.”

Papa was never in the concentration camps, neither was grandma.

Dad and papa met through mutual friends at a party in college, and they were never involved in the Cuban Missile Crisis, as they hadn’t even been born yet. Dad was paralyzed in a skilling accident in the Alps, not by the bullet papa deflected. The idea that papa had hurt dad in the other world was horrifying for papa, and he thanked the heavens this was our reality, earning him a smack across the head from dad, saying he should pray for a reality where the accident never happened. All in good spirit.

Dad never had the period of severe depression and drug addiction, though, he did have an emo phase. Papa didn’t kill Kennedy. Papa didn’t kill anyone, he would clarify.

Dad did have a period of sexual promiscuity in college, including Moira, before meeting papa and settling down. Papa, on the other hand, only had a handful of significant relationships prior, never having any children like I otherwise remembered.

As it turned out, dad was a professor of genetics and biology, and papa worked as a consulting engineer.

We lived in a penthouse in New York City for most of the time, and returned to Westchester only for holidays and vacations.

This much information I gleaned over two days. I also learned that my parents had already each taken a month off from their work. When I was in a coma waiting for the transplant or the manmade new heart, they weren’t sure I was going to make it. I confessed at long last how much I had wanted them to be a couple in my other memories, how glad I was that they were together now, and how proud I was to be their son.

I hadn’t felt so happy in so long. On several occasions, I just lay there and watched my parents banter, without the weight of a dying son, as the July sun shone brightly through the window. It was hard to believe I had a happy family again.

On the third day after I woke up, a Saturday, aunt Raven came to visit. The new heart was working well. I was already able to sit in a chair and was starting to eat my own food. With her, aunt Raven brought her husband Hank, whom I remembered as the absolute genius, and their two kids, Kurt, and Anna Marie. It became clear to me that uncle Hank was every bit as smart as I had known him, after I eavesdropped on his conversation with dad about some very advanced science they were working on together.

Kurt and Anna Marie brought me video game consoles, much to aunt Raven and dad’s chagrin. I wasn’t medically cleared to play games, so papa, glad as he was, took over and played against my cousins. He was very good at it.

Aunt Raven relieved my parents, the two old men, as she called them, for the afternoon. She claimed they deserved some time off. I wholeheartedly agreed, so off on a date they went. Aunt Raven filled me in on more details, or gossip, I should say, about how my parents came to be together. A tortuous journey for them, and a torturous journey for those around them, she claimed, because neither of them were bold enough to make a move for way too long.

Out of curiosity, I had to ask whose child I was.

“What do you think?” She tossed the question back playfully as she ruffled my wavy auburn hair.

“I’ve been thinking about this. I really couldn’t tell.” I looked for a mirror to re-examine my face.

“Just look at me.” Aunt Raven transformed.

“You know, it’s so amazing to watch you do that every time, even though I’ve seen it so many times at this point.” I looked at the carbon copy of myself sitting 3 feet away.

“Aren’t you a sweet talker. Maybe you are your papa’s.” She winked at me.

“I still could not tell.” Tracing my own jawline with my fingers, I confessed.

“The truth is, I don’t think anyone knows.” Aunt Raven transformed back. “They uh, how to say this in a PG13 way, mixed their seeds together with a donor egg. And out you came.”

“Huh.” That was nice. “So I’m the one true son.” I joked.

“You had always been the one true son, you dense boy. Didn’t matter how you came about.”

Hmm.

It wasn’t long before dad and papa returned, hands and lap full of dinner. I had mentioned I was missing a good burger, and so they went and got some, reduced salt, of course.

I had gone back to laying in bed, feeling an unsettled pain in my chest. I was just tired, I reassured myself.

“Dad,” An idea suddenly formed in my head. “Can you come over?” I called out.

“Hmm?” He put down the cutleries he was busy distributing, and wheeled over quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to… see my parents from the other life.” I paused, and watched as his eyes turned from surprise to reveal a hint of sadness. “Only because aunt Raven is here, not because of anything else. I love both of you.”

No words could ease the pain in his eyes. His son was back… with memories of another family he couldn’t forget.

“I’m sorry dad. I don’t have to.” I hated to see his pain and hurt.

“No, no, it’s alright son.” He squeezed my hand and fell silent. He was talking to uncle Hank and aunt Raven in their heads.

Soon, uncle Hank ushered the cousins out, on a trip to get some ice cream from the cafe for all of us.

Papa was changing the channel on the TV, completely oblivious of what was going on.

“Erik.” Dad called out to his husband.

“What’s wrong?” He turned his head right away. “You look pale, Noah. Wie geht’s?”

At that, I felt all three pairs of eyes converge, scrutinizing me. I reached inside, and felt some odd flow in my chest. So something was off. Nah, it could wait until after the family meal.

“Mir geht's gut, papa. I’m fine.” I fought off the concern. “I just asked dad and aunt Raven to see my family from the other world.”

I never talked in detail about my other parents and my brother with papa. He was more stoic, or less emotional, compared to dad. Very much the German stereotype. As I declared my intention, I saw him frown ever so quickly. Of course, he turned it to a smile.

“Papa, it’s not because of what you are thinking. I love you, and I love this life.” I was really not feeling too hot now. Rest, I thought to myself. Rest.

“I know.” He replied quietly, came to my side, and kissed my forehead. “It’s sweaty.” He commented. “You don’t look well, son.”

“I’m fine, just a bit tired.” I offered a smile.

“We’ll be right outside.” Dad put an end to the conversation, and nodded to aunt Raven.

There, she changed into my mom. Uncontrollably, I burst into tears.

“It’s ok, Noah.” “Mom” spoke, and lent a steady hand on my shoulder. “You can talk to me.”

“Did I die? Did I die over there?” I sobbed like a child.

“No. We are well. You are well.” She pulled me into a hug.

I saw dad then, dad from the other world. He hugged me too. Told me, son, everything would be ok.

And my brother last. I told him I had great parents now, that my dream had come true. I told him to take care of mom and dad, and he promised.

Then, back to reality.

Aunt Raven’s eyes were so red.

“You are strong, Noah.”

The air felt so heavy.

“Do you want a minute?” She handed me a box of tissue.

“No, I want to see my parents.” I was perfectly happy with my life as it was now. It wasn’t time to dwell on that which might not have even happened. It was time to enjoy the family meal. I wiped away the sweat that had accumulated on my forehead. I couldn’t articulate why I felt the need to play strong. I was literally in a hospital. What was the need?

Aunt Raven opened the curtains, then the sliding door, and let my parents in.

“He’s strong.” I heard her whisper to them.

Papa nodded solemnly as he pushed dad inside. Dad didn’t usually let people push him around.

“Are you ok, my boy?” Dad asked ever so lovingly, not a hint of disappointment or frustration.

I nodded. “I think it’s time for burgers and ice cream.”

“I’ll get my husband and kids.” Aunt Raven stated plainly and squeezed past papa.

Now I knew why I was playing strong. Because this was happy time. Family time. I didn’t want to ruin it for everyone else.

My parents made small talk as they set out plates for everyone, feigning nothing had happened. I lay in my guilt, regretting what I had done. I didn’t have to see my other family. Did I? I had a perfect one here. I looked as they chatted, noting papa stealing glances at me. They were so happy. They loved me, they loved each other. And, as inappropriate as it was, in the other world, my parents had my brother. Here, they only had me.

The pain in my chest wasn’t getting worse, but it wasn’t getting better either. I ate cautiously, hoping the meal would be done sooner so I could drop the facade. Come to think of it, that should have been my clue to alert someone something was wrong. Instead, I soldiered on, until I choked, and coughed.

Papa came around the fastest, as aunt Raven and uncle Hank took their leave with the kids. Dad called out into the hallway frantically for help.

I coughed and coughed as papa held me, helpless. There was blood on him. So I must have coughed it up. The pain in my chest was tearing me apart. I looked to dad. Worry written all over his face.

“Code blue, code blue!” Papa yelled and pounded on the little button on the wall.

A flood of people came in. Someone took over papa’s spot beside me, no matter how much I wanted him to stay. They put the oxygen mask back on, injected something into the IV, and then something else.

My cough had subsided by the time they rushed me out of my room. I wondered if I had asked to see my other parents today of all days because I had a premonition. As the hallway draft brushed against my face, and I stole a look at my parents before we turned the corner, I prayed to every god that this wasn’t the last time I saw them.

I drifted to sleep at some point during the hustle bustle that went on. I couldn’t pay attention to what was happening. I suppose they must have put me to sleep, as I had awoken in what looked like a procedure room. I was still alive, I registered. And the pain was gone.

“Noah,” someone called my name and tapped my face. Or slapped. But very lightly. Just to wake me up. “I’m Dr. Marshall, the anesthesiologist, you are doing great. Your procedure went well… I’m taking you back to your parents… Ok? Noah?”

Hmm. I heard you. I wanted to say. That meant I get to live right?

“I’m going to take this off of you. You don’t need it, young man.” Dr. Marshall pulled the oxygen mask off. Good riddance.

The ceiling moved, and soon I heard papa.

“Is he ok? Is everything ok?” He was panting. He sounded like he had just run a marathon.

“He’s doing great,” Came Dr. Marshall’s voice. “He’s a fighter. He had a pulmonary embolism, a clot in his lungs. Dr. Richards got it out, and now we prevent it with some blood thinners, anticoagulants. His heart is fine. He’ll be back to normal in no time.”

Surprisingly, I was fully awake and conscious, feeling not too shabby at all.

“Yes, we heard about the clot. Thank you doctor.” Papa’s voice was coming closer to me.

I felt dad’s wheelchair, but I couldn’t see him. The stretcher bed was too high.

_Dad?_

_Hi, my boy._ He always called me that. From what I gleaned from the childhood memories, he had called me _my boy_ since day one. I smiled to myself. Unsure if he could see or sense. The gods answered my prayer. I was back by my parents’ side.

“You scared us.” Papa leaned over and pressed a long kiss on my forehead, matching his pace to the stretcher.

“Sorry.” I muttered with a smirk. I really was sorry. I was just too damn happy to hear his voice again.

“Come, Charles. Rest your arms for a second. You’ve been running around.”

_He’s not mad at me, is he?_

_No, my boy. He was just worried. We both were. Rest, I let him drive the wheelchair, he’ll calm down soon enough._

_You can’t manipulate your husband like this, dad._

_Hardly manipulation. And stop siding with him. You and your encrypted conversations in German._

_Like this wasn’t a secret conversation?_

_Shush._

It was just past midnight when we got back to my room.

Papa came over and “admonished”: Noah you need to tell us, Noah you can’t pretend, Noah this, Noah that. On and on he went.

Ich weiß, papa. I said. Ich weiß.

Finally, he left me and helped dad get to bed. Dad didn’t need help. Papa just needed to feel like he could protect his family, dad told me secretly. _I’ll indulge him. He was just scared of losing you._

My upward trajectory resumed smoothly after the little hiccup. We video called grandma in Germany, reassured her all was well. She made me promise to spend Christmas and Hanukkah with her, so she could fatten me up.

Though dad had half gone back to teaching with uncle Hank, papa took an even longer break from his work, to make sure I was going to fully recover. For the week that followed, he went home every late afternoon to cook, and returned with a healthy meal for each of us.

“I didn’t even get this treatment for our honeymoon.” Dad protested the evening before my discharge. Winking at me from the other end of the couch.

“You are not our son.” Papa said lightheartedly. He was standing by the window, looking out into the summer sky. “Also,” he added after a few seconds’ pause, “I cooked for you when we dated. Remember? Because you won’t go out with me!”

There it was, the family banter.

“Don’t listen to him, Noah, I hit on him for a few weeks’ straight before he even realized.” Dad shook his head. “Dense, you were, Erik.”

“Was not.”

“Was so! Ask your mum.”

“I can’t wait to go home.” I interrupted their reminiscing shamelessly. I had only a few memories of home to hang on to.

“We can’t wait to have you home.” Papa turned away from the window and look at us, before sitting down in the middle seat, stretching one arm over my shoulder, the other over dad’s. “My two favourite boys.” He beamed, ruffled my hair, and turned to savour a kiss with his beloved husband.

“Ewwwwwww.” I rolled my eyes. “Is this what I have to endure now? PDA?”

No response. They were still engaged in their make-out session.

“This was what you always endured.” Dad finally answered, breathless.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? In your other memories?” Papa would not let that go to rest. He had brought it up a thousand times, citing it was cute.

“You guys do make a dashing couple, a lot of people from the other world agreed!” Somehow I felt like I needed to defend my position, as in love as they were. “It worked out for me anyway, look how charming and handsome I turned out.”

“Oh there we go. The real Noah, the narcissist.” It was papa’s turn to roll his eyes. “I tell you Charles, he has to be your spawn.”

“Are you saying I’m not your son?” That’s right, not only did I graduate the school of narcissism, I also graduated the school of guilt-tripping.

“He’s kidding, Erik. Like all the other times he had said that.” Dad interjected, stroking papa’s hair. “You are going to break your poor papa, Noah. And then you’ll have me to answer to.” He jokingly threatened.

“Entschuldigung papa. Ich scherze, nur Spaß.” I was still surprised how fluently I spoke German. “Sorry dad. I won’t break your husband, I promise.”

Discharged day rolled around. It was a big send-off. It being a children’s hospital and a lengthy eventful stay, the doctors and nurses brought me balloons upon balloons. Aunt Raven had come to “help” as well, making everything all the more festive.

Downstairs, a limo awaited. Apparently aunt Raven had called off our driver, and arranged her own transportation. What was this new-found luxury living, a limo for coming out of the hospital? I couldn’t say I didn’t love it though. I was all for grand gestures, this life or any life.

I got in first, followed by aunt Raven, who showed me all the snacks and trickery that was hidden in the car. “It’s your first time in a limo,” she winked at me. I knew it probably wasn’t, I just couldn’t remember.

Dad had gotten in next. Papa and I lent him a hand. The limousine seating arrangement was not the most accessible. Aunt Raven was going on about the types of snacks and which was the best as I helped dad settle in. “He can’t eat the normal snacks, Raven. You torture him.” He stayed in the seat next to the door, and handed papa his wheelchair.

“Jeez Charles, chill. Salt free snacks for my favourite nephew, ok?” Aunt Raven hissed.

Papa got in last after he supervised the driver putting the chair in the trunk, and wondered aloud how it was already a party in the car.

We were going to Westchester, aunt Raven announced once the car was on the move. “Yes Charles, I told Hank to cover for you for one more week.” She answered before the question was even posed. Papa just smiled.

Westchester was every bit as extravagant as it had been in my memories. Long, winding drive way, a garden large enough to fit another house, a fountain, and vast, vast grounds. The interior was exquisite, needless to say. We had a house staff, like servants. Could you believe that? Never would I have to clean my own room ever again! Never would I have to do my own laundry ever again!

I explored for the rest of the day, riding in one of dad’s electric wheelchairs because I was lazy. And because I was still “not well enough to walk a mile unaided,” as per dad. I pinched myself every once in a while, and each time, it hurt. This wasn’t a dream. I lived in a literal mansion. We had an indoor pool, an outdoor pool. A library. Loads of rooms to do random upper class stuff in.

My room had a king-sized bed. I didn’t actually know if it was king size. It was just the biggest bed I had ever seen.

Dinner was lovely, papa cooked, as usual. We ate at the cozy breakfast table. The dining hall was too big and distant for family, I insisted.

We stayed in one of the living rooms after dinner, watching TV, and watching my parents make out. They weren’t joking when they said that was what I had always endured. Love was nothing to be ashamed of, or to hide from, dad said.

Bedtime was still earlier than what I would have liked as a normal teenager. You need rest, they insisted.

As I lay in bed, I thought back to the past ten days. How I had woken up, confused, in pain. How oddly right it had felt to belong to a “new” family. How great not dying was.

I still wasn’t sure if the other lifetime hadn’t happened. I wondered what became of the leukaemia. Just as I wondered, out of the blue, I felt a tinge of pain, a pattern resembling that of cancer.

I tossed and turned, wishing the pain away. But the longer I stayed awake, the more prominent and widespread the pain became. I traced my blood flow, lest I got reprimanded by papa for playing strong again. My blood flowed fine. Yet in no time, the pain had skyrocketed to a five out of ten.

Gingerly, I got out of bed and walked towards my parents’ room. I should tell them, something was wrong. Passing the grandfather clock, I learned merely an hour had passed.

The light was still on in their room. “Are you guys decent?” I knocked as the ever increasing pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Of course we are, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you sleeping?” Papa drew the door open with his outstretched hand. Dad was reading.

They looked so at peace.

I bit down the complaints of pain. Just one more peaceful night, then I tell them. “Can I sleep here tonight?” I asked instead.

“Yes.” Dad answered first.

Papa looked a little uncertain. Perhaps they had plans for later.

“Yes, my boy.” Dad affirmed, shifting to the side to make room for me.

Papa followed suit.

I climbed into bed before the crushing pain could collapse me, feeling sorry that I had spoiled papa’s plan for the night.

There I lay, in between my parents, as the pain torched through my body. I stifled, with all my might, the screams and shivers. Just one more night.

Papa turned the lights off then, wished me Gute Nacht, and gave me a good night kiss. “Good night Charles.”

“Good night papa, good night dad.” I said, voice lightly strained.

“Good night, Erik. Good night, my boy.” Dad answered. Another good night kiss.

_Everything will come to pass, my boy._

I felt dad’s presence not long after silence fell. A wave of bright warmth washed over, cleansing the pain away. I wondered if he knew, if he could sense I was in pain.

_We have both loved you, very very much. So have your parents and your brother from the other world. You are and will always be loved, Noah._

He sent another wave of warmth. The pain was almost all gone, and my eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

_Good night dad, good night papa._

_Sleep, my beloved boy._ He said one last time.


End file.
